Difficult Learnings
by BlackMoonShine
Summary: Remy is found two years after Antarctica in an unlikely places after undergoing unknown horrors. Logan and Hank find him there. Eventual Logan/Remy slash.
1. Chapter 1

Logan had somehow managed to get stuck on monitor duty. He didn't really mind is so much because it usually gave him a bit of peace and quiet from all the kids. He was currently watching Bobby lug bucket after bucket full of ice into Storm's room, presumably filling her bath tub with the stuff. She used to laugh good naturedly at his pranks, now she either ignored them entirely or yelled at him to grow up, how she wasn't in the mood. Very un-'ro-like. Bobby never stopped trying though, to make her laugh. For two years it had been this way. For two years Gumbo had been dead, left in Antarctica.

Storm never forgave them or herself for the way they had all behaved. Rogue seemed genuinely remorseful but Logan felt no pity for her. She had made this bed. Warren no longer seemed full rage, just more resigned and ready to move away from it. Storm's moods kept reminding them though. She wasn't going to let them, or herself, forget that easily.

The phone rang and Logan picked up the phone, eyes still watching Bobby on the screen. "Xavier School for the Gifted." He grunted into the receiver.

"Hello," A woman's voice answered him hesitantly. "Is your school also known as 'The Mansion'?" She seemed to realize that she sounded completely ridiculous, asking a perfect stranger a question like this. But Logan leaned forward, interested, all his attention of this phone call. It was obvious that she was repeating something she had heard. He decided to not be an asshole to her and tell her something along the lines of 'fuck off'.

"Yeah, people who live here call it that. Where did you hear it?"

She seemed both relieved and hesitant before deciding to speak. "I'm a social worker at the New York State Hospital and I have a patient here who has mentioned 'The Mansion' several times now, so I decided to call around and see if there was any such place is the area he had said it would be." Logan rolled his eyes. So some mental patient had heard one of the kids talking about the school. He'd have to speak to them about that. More like yell.

"Look lady," He said, speaking candidly. "I think it's really nice that you're trying to help find somebody their home, but this is a place for mutants, understand?"

Her voice grew excited. "But he is a mutant. He was brought in about a month ago after being found in an out of the way cabin in the woods, almost starved to death and most certainly sadistically abused. They assumed he was mentally unstable because of the way he behaved, but I'm not so sure. It may have been brought on by trauma. I've only just been able to piece together so his life because he refuses to speak to anybody. But every once in a while he'll whisper something about 'The Mansion' and this address that I found your phone number under."

Logan again grew interested. But one thought stopped him. "I can't think of anybody we're missing or haven't had contact with. Do you know his name?"

"No. He refers to himself as several derogatory names, but he doesn't appear to know his own name."

"What does he look like?"

Logan almost dropped the receiver and died when he heard her response.

"Auburn hair, red and black eyes."

Hank had nearly the same response when Logan told him the reason why they had to drive to the State Hospital. But then he asked Logan a question he hadn't thought of in his relief to find out that the Cajun was still alive.

"What kind of trauma was she talking about. He's been gone for two years and they've only had him for a month. What happened in that time that would have caused this. Was it us? Did we do this to him?" He seemed genuinely worried that they may have been the cause of this. He knew the fragility of the mind in even the strongest people.

They drove to the State Hospital, somber, but with an electric excited air about them. They were finally going to see Gambit, see if he was really alive, if this was really him. It was too much to hope.

The Social worker Logan had spoken to on the phone came down the meet them. She was pretty, a little heavy with long brown hair tied up into a clip on her head.

She seemed unsure if she had made the right decision when she saw the two large men, one gruff and unwelcoming, the other...looked nice, but was still an awfully big man.

She explained to them that she didn't know how the man would react to them since he seemed unable to tell the real world from fantasies he had created in his head. She told them that she had taken him away from the other patients and he was in her office at the moment.

She entered the room first and a female nurse left the office. The social worker beckoned them inside.

The office was nice and professional, but the sight that met their eyes made Logan want to kill somebody, and he was sure Hank felt the same way. It had been too much to hope.

Oh, it was Remy all right, but it also wasn't. Anyone could see that. He looked at them with startled red on black eyes before turning to face the window, tapping at the pane of glass nervously. He wore jeans and a sweatshirt that were much to big for him. Just looking at the hollow cheekbones of his face they could tell that he was emaciated. He held himself so stiff that Logan was surprised that he didn't hear the creaking of bones. The social worker walked to him. She stood a safe distance away from him but he still leaned away from her.

"Are you seeing your people?" Remy gave a jerk nod of his head before pausing a moment and then shaking his head.

"How many are there this time?" She asked him, keeping her voice gentle. He rapped his knuckled against the glass twice.

"Do you recognize them both?" A shake of the head.

"How many do you recognize?" One rap this time. Hank realized that is was because of his image inducer.

"May I shut this door?" He asked her softly. Remy's head jerked and he rested his forehead against the wall, hugging himself with one arm, his other fist pressed against his mouth, eyes clenched. Logan thought he looked as though he was having some kind of breakdown.

Hank closed the door quietly before turning his image inducer off. The social worker gasped and took a step back. Of course she knew that they were mutants, but this was indeed very strange for her. Remy looked up at her gasp and saw Hank and Logan standing there. A soft keening emerged from behind clenched teeth. He slammed his head against the wall, trying to drive the images out of his mind. He didn't want them here.

Logan grabbed him roughly in his haste to make him stop only to let go when Remy screamed, sliding against the wall until he was in the corner on his knees, pressing himself as far into the corner as he could get. It felt like Him when He used to grab him. How He could still grab him if he was ever found.

Logan stood there, hands still in the air, completely torn and emotionally devastated. They weren't just going to be able to pick up where they left of with a few sorrys and hugs. One look at Hank told Logan that he realized this as well, but the look on his face was pure determination. They were not going to leave him here, they were going to take him home, where hopefully he would recover given time.

"Are we going to be allowed to take him home?" Hank whispered to the woman. She thought for a moment. "I believe you should. He's made no improvements here, maybe if he were home and felt safe.... I think I should tell you my suspicions first." Both Logan and Hank came closer. "When he is under high stress he sees people. He sees you two and a few others. I believe he created these fantasies of you being near him to make him feel protected when he had nothing to protect him from...whoever caused this. May I ask how you did not know he was missing?" She looked at them accusingly.

Logan came up with a quick response. "He got left somewhere by mistake and the girl who was with him told us he had wanted to stay there so we didn't question it. We figured he had gotten tired of us." It wasn't the answer she looked like she wanted, but she'd take it.

"Okay. Also He doesn't speak. He'll make noises of upset and he'll sometimes use hand motions, but he will not speak, he whispers to himself when he believes no one is listening. He calls himself Bitch and Whore and he believes these are his names. He also seems to have an aversion to food for some reason. I can only assume that someone had used it as punishment or manipulation. People upset him and he seems terrified all the time. Was he like this before?"

Logan shook his head sadly. "We have no idea how this happened." He admitted.

"When they first found him they did a physical on him. He had several healed breaks, most of which looked relatively new. His body was almost entirely covered with cuts that looked purposefully done. And it looked as though he had been....raped, brutally and many times." She seemed upset by this information and neither of the men could blame her. The urge to either throw up or completely go homicidal was a hard on push away. They'd deal with that later though. First came first.

Logan walked to Remy, kneeling down in front of him. Remy pushed further away from him. Logan didn't try to touch him. Touch would be a long time coming, he knew. "Would you like to go home?" He asked in a low voice. He was trying not to let the anger at finding the boy in this condition show.

He looked at him from the corner of his eye but made no indication. The social worker repeated the question but Remy just seemed to grow confused. Hank asked him a question, sadly, already expecting the answer. "Do you have a home?" Logan's heart broke when the boy shook his head and turned his face away from them.

They took him anyway, whether he thought the mansion was his home or not, be belonged there, with people who would help him. And hopefully not make anything worse.


	2. Coming Home

Hey, thanks everybody for the great response :)

* * *

Chapter 2

Remy sat in the backseat on the passenger side, completely oblivious to that fact that Logan and Hank were talking about him. He stared out the window blankly, arms folded across his thin chest.

"I say we just shove Jean at him. She'll straighten him out, good as new, eh? Logan said with a toothy grin. Hank saw the wobble of the grin as it slowly faded from his face. Logan had figured it wouldn't fly.

"There are some things the human mind must work through on its own. Jean may be able to patch him up, making him forget and 'good as new' as you say, but whatever did this will be just under the surface, waiting to break free. It will always haunt him. It's best we let his mind deal with this in its own time." Logan sighed in frustration and Hank had to concur. This was going to be a slow process, depending on just how unstable Remy really was. Hank felt certain that there was more going on than they realized.

Hank pulled into a gas station. "I have to use the Little Ape's room." He said apologetically. Logan grinned at him.

After hank left Logan looked at Remy in the rear view mirror. No reaction to anything that had gone of, just glazed eyes staring blindly. "I'm gonna go in and get somethin'. You want anything, kid?" No response. Logan raised his voice. "Kid?" Remy's eyes held a strange expression and Logan didn't much care for it. Logan knew he had been heard, but he still refused to acknowledge him. As Logan got out of the car, he looked back in at him. "Kid?" He said even louder, letting his frustration at Remy's lack of response show. The kid flinched and Logan felt a pang of guilt. He didn't want to do anything that would push the kid further away. He walked inside and bought copious amounts of sugar-laden junk food, hoping he could get some into the boy. That starved look wasn't working for him.

When he got back out to the parking lot, Hank had the back door open. "Remy? Remy? What's wrong, can you tell me what's wrong?" Hank's voice had an edge of fear.

Remy's shirt was covered in blood. His chin was dripping with blood and Logan saw why; the kid had bitten through his lip. His hands were clenched into white knuckled fists.

"Kid?" Logan knelt next to Hank so Remy could see them both. Remy flinched at his words and bit his lip harder, releasing a fresh spill of blood.

"Don't call him that. He obviously has a negative connotation with it."

"Remy?" Logan asked softly. "Open your mouth?" He didn't respond. Logan was getting used to this new behavior. He held Remy's chin in one hand and pried open his mouth with his other. Remy jerked away from him but Logan wouldn't let go.

"Hank, grab some napkins from the glove box." Hank came back and shoved them into his hand. He tried to be as gentle as he would, cleaning as much blood as he could off of him, dropping bloody napkins into Hank's furry palm. Remy whimpered when Logan tried to clean his lip and Logan softened his touch but pressed the napkin there, taking Remy's hand and signaling that he wanted him to hold it himself. Remy watched him and Logan thought he saw a touch of sadness in those red and black eyes, but then it was gone and the blank eyes remained.

"Logan," Hank began once they had shut the door.

"I know." They got back in the car and drove away.

Once they reached the mansion they thought of something.

"How d'ya want to get him in?"

"Well...we don't just want to waltz in there through the kitchen. We might be bringing up emotions people have buried. Someone would try to hurt him in his weakened state. Then there's the added pressure that they would put on him, trying to force him to react, which we must not do." He added, giving Logan a pointed look.

"So it'd be best if we kept him hidden, at least till he's a bit better." Logan asked, confirming

"Yes, I believe so. Should we bring him in through the hanger, do you think? There shouldn't be anybody in there."

"It's supper time anyway, they're all eating."

They didn't notice that Remy had gotten out of the idling car like the silent theif he used to be. When they finally noticed that he was gone, they found him standing under the street sign. Logan heard his voice whispering the street name as though he was trying to remember the way the words tasted. He hi voice sounded hoarse and choked. When Hank looked at him he saw the emotion on his face, the tear filled eyes. He tried to pull Logan away, to give Remy a measure of privacy, but Logan refused to budge. Instead he placed a hand on Remy's shoulder.

"You're home." He whispered in his ear.

The tears spilled and Remy shook his head jerkily. He walked back to the car and left Logan feeling confused.

"He feels as though he doesn't have a home." Hank reminded him sadly.

But at least they now knew that there was someone in there behind the blank facade.


	3. Overload

Chapter 3

They managed to get him up to his old room without anybody noticing. They heard the subdued voices as they passed the dining room, trying there best not to lumber, trip, or do anything that would alert anyone of their presence. Remy stiffened, his feet slowed. Logan grabbed him by the hand, dragging Remy child-like up the stairs. Entering his room for the first time in two years they both realized two things; that it was icily cold in this room, and that Ororo had never forgotten. Everything was straightened and there was no dust to be found. She had kept the room as though he were coming home that very afternoon. And he had, finally, this day. But the knew Remy didn't appreciate the cold. When he felt it he shivered and tried to back out of the room. Logan wouldn't loosen his grip, but he turned up the thermostat as he passed. Remy started as the radiator rattled to life, blowing out how air before he let go of Logan's hand and stood next to the warmth. Hank closed the door behind them.

"This is going to be a bit more difficult than I realized. We can't keep him locked in here. This isn't a prison." Hank noticed Remy become agitated at that, glancing at them through the corners of his eyes while gripping himself tightly. Hank began to wonder if someone had locked Remy up somewhere. That would explain why he had never contacted them to let them know he was in trouble. Did he think they wouldn't have cared?

"We're the only ones on this hall, he can always go into my room if he feels like it. It's not that bad." Logan dumped the convenience store bag on the bed. He steered Remy over and sat him down, ripping open a bag of M&M's.

"Logan, he needs nutrients, not sugar." Hank told him in a disapproving voice.

"He needs calories." He retorted. He turned Remy's hand over and poured them into his palms. He expected Remy to eat them, but he turned his hand over and watched them fall. They watched him organize them into colors, carefully inspecting each shell before placing it with its mates. Then he started eating them, which made both men happy.

"Do you want to sleep now?" Hank asked. He had not missed the fact that he looked exhausted. He was met with the jerky shake of the head that was becoming all too familiar, the shake people did when they were trying to get water out of their ears. Hank was just glad he had reacted, instead of looking through him, not hearing him.

His eyes began closing involuntarily within a few moments though, for all that he didn't want to sleep. Then all of a sudden his eyes flashed open. He stumbled off the bed, past Hank and on the remembered path to the bathroom. Then he threw up.

* * *

"I told you not to give him candy." Hank admonished Logan in a smug tone. Remy's stomach, unused to food has rejected the sudden influx. Remy's eyes were shut and he rested his flushed face against the porcelain, too exhausted to move. Logan picked up his limp, junkie thin body and placed him back on the bed under piles of blankets.

"Shut up. He would have puked from anything." Hank just smirked.

* * *

They weren't prepared for the nightmares. Oh, he had had them once in a while when he had lived at the mansion before, Logan had heard him screaming from down the hall. He had gone into the boy's room to wake him up, knowing what it was like to be trapped in a repeating hell, holding him as he panted with remembered pain. But more often than not, he's scream himself awake and stumble up to 'Ro's loft. These were nothing like those nightmares.

Logan and Hank were talking quietly amongst themselves, careful not to wake Remy. The time was almost eight. He had been sleeping since six. They had decided that one of them would stay in the room at all times as they did not know how he's react to waking in a strange place.

Logan paused in mid-sentence, glancing over at Remy. He smelled pain and fear and shame, bitter and overwhelming. But Remy didn't seem as though he were having a nightmare at first glance. Logan stood up to get a better look at him. There were no sounds, no thrashing. He held himself rigidly, fingers digging into his arms, drawing blood. His teeth were clenched tight, the muscle in his jaw twitched.

"Hank," Logan began slowly, unsure of what was going on.

Hank was already across the room. "He's biting his tongue, we've got to wake him up." He gripped Remy's shoulders, shaking him and calling his name. Logan followed. He looked down at Remy for a moment. He was too lost in his own hell, he couldn't hear him. Logan got into the bed and gathered Remy's body into his lap. After a brief moment when the stench of fear became even stronger, Remy began to calm down. He sighed and snuggled down into Logan's arms as his eyelids began to flutter and he woke up. "There ya go, Rem, it's alright. You're fine."

Logan met Hank's quizzical look. "He's had nightmares before. He's usually so far in them that he can't hear you so you've got to touch-"

"Remy, how do you feel?" Hank asked, cutting Logan off to meet Remy's confused gaze. He gestured, at Logan to let go of him and Hank to get out of his face. Shakily he got up and made his way to the bathroom for the second time that night. He leaned over the sink, arms stiff, leaning against the wall, and spat out mouthful after mouthful of blood and saliva.

After a while Hank announced, "I'll be right back." Already out of the door. Logan nodded, Remy ignored him.

* * *

Hank made his way down the stairs, past Bobby, Warren, Betsy, and Rogue in the rec room. Jean and Scott looked startled when Hank walked through the door to the kitchen. Scott looked peeved and he knew that he had interrupted an important conversation. Hank began making up plates of leftovers and nuking them, chicken and mashed potatoes and sad looking green beans which he figured none of them would eat but they were good for the sake of appearances. He was a doctor after all.

Jean raised her eyebrows. "Are you going to be eating all of that Hank?" She pointed at the three plates.

"Ah, no. One is for me, two for Logan." Raised eyebrows from the couple. "He is helping me with an...experiment. It may take a while so don't expect to see much of either of us for long periods of time."

"We'll see you at training though, right?" The question came from Scott, of course.

"Maybe Logan, but probably not me." Scott's eyebrows lowered. "It's a rather delicate process and it must be watched at all times." The microwave beeped and Hank placed the plates on a tray.

"I bid you adieu." He said with fake jollity before he left.

As he walked back up the stairs, he just kept wondering; what if they were found out? For Hank and Logan it would not be a big deal, but what if the objected to Remy being at the mansion? Would they really turn him away?

* * *

Hank kicked at the door and Logan opened it, about ready to marry the doctor when he saw the food. He dug in, closing the door behind him. Remy was pacing the length of the wall, looking at the floor and appearing to not hear Hank's entrance. He seemed restless.

Logan followed Hank's worried gaze.

"I just wish he's say something, ya know?" Logan said in a candid moment. "It kills me, seeing him like this and knowing it's our fault this happened. And even if we get him talking and doing all the shit he used to do, he'll never be the same. He'll never be right again." Hank nodded in understanding. Logan didn't have to be your best friend to consider you his family, a member of his pack. And he had always felt a bit of kinship with the boy, both being outsiders as they were.

Hank then said something they both knew but didn't want to say aloud. "Even if he would say something, he'd never trust us enough to tell us what happened."

Logan watched the damaged boy as he paced. His eyes were bruised shadows and he hugged himself tightly, like the only kind touch he ever got came from himself. Logan couldn't stand it. He crossed the room, coming up behind Remy and drew him into his arms hugging him tight.

He got a reaction, but not the one he wanted. Remy froze and began to tremble like a dog in a thunderstorm, a low keen coming from the back of his throat.

"Remy...?" He let go of the boy, but he didn't move away from Logan. He didn't move at all. He dropped to his knees and passed out.

* * *

Next chapter is going to be from Remy's POV.


	4. Chapter 4

Sometimes I think I could speak. Words form in my head but they never make it any further than that. And that's probably for the best.

I'm so used to seeing Logan almost ghost-like…no solidness, just a fading image coming from my faded mind. The image now is solid. I think I've finally sunk into my mind. Gambit's always telling me that it's alright if I do. He can't get to me in my mind, he says, He can only get to Gambit these days. I don't know if that's fair to him, but I can't help but just slip away. We share the same body, the same mind, but we rarely have contact, only when he thinks I'm up to it. He's usually telling me to hide.

I'm not the strong one. I feel so…empty. I can't find where my heart used to be. It's hard to feel anything. I can still feel the touches though, but thank God they've started to seem far away, far away like me. It's the image of Logan touching me, but I know it's not really, it's just Him and I'm tricking myself into believing that it's not. Because I want it to be Logan and not Him.

But he's not acting as the image usually does. The image usually comes after He's left, or when it's gotten so bad I think I just might retreat entirely and never come back. The image kneels next to me, he says things, but the words are usually garbled, and I don't really care. Like watching a television show flicker through because the waves have gotten crossed. I know I've made them up, that this is all in my imagination, but…they're solid now. I can see the surroundings of the mansion and I can understand them like I've never been able to do before. Whenever I tried to think of anything definitive about the mansion or about the X-Men, I always pull up vague images that could belong to anything. I don't know how I'm suddenly able to pull everything up with such clarity.

I feel someone grab me from behind and I know it's Him. I had myself partially convinced by my fantasy that He was really gone. But He wasn't, just playing with me, again. I feel the tide of terror rise and the blackness comes through my vision.

When I wake up the image of Hank is in front of me. I shove at him, trying to get him to go away. I know it's not him. It's the other one. He doesn't come around that often, only when He's hurt me to the point that I don't care if he beats me or rapes me again to try and shut me up, when all I feel is torn and bloody, like any second I will just give up. I scream and I sob until I finally lay quiet, when I can't tell if I'm up or down, until I feel like I'm finally dying. Then the other one comes and patches me up. He gets upset because he has to not have as much fun with me as he likes for a little while. For a week or two I just lie on the hard floor and curse my body for healing, again, instead of just knowing when to quit. There's no escaping.

I'm reaching my limit, like I thought I had countless times before. I shove at him and I expect a hit, that cold voice. The image of Hank just steps away from me. Logan comes into my vision.

"Remy, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to scare you. Are you okay?" He looks worried, but it's just the fantasy. I'm playing games with my own mind, like the games they play aren't enough. I just look at him. I don't want to be drawn in to believing this. But he says my name. I haven't heard my name in so long because He does not call me by it. It's not my name anymore.

"Remy?" I look through him. I don't know who's talking to me. I don't know if it's Him or not. But it can't be him because he never calls me that.

Logan sighs in frustration. "Son of a Bitch." I look at him, waiting for him to say what he needs to say. He's just getting worse and worse, he wants me to break. I want to break just to be done with it.

The image of Logan and Hank both look distressed that I've responded to my name. One of several.

"Remy, why do you answer to that? That's not your name. Remy." He seems to want to bring home that my name is Remy. But only Gambit calls me that. Not Him. He doesn't seem to have anything to say to me so I turn away from him. The images seem to let me get away with behaving like this, I know He never would. I wonder if he's doing something to me right now. I wonder if I'll ever come out from this world this time around.

I feel Gambit lurking around the corners of my mind, but that's not right. He should be out there, with Him. He can't be in here with me. This has never happened before. I feel him touch my mind and he seems genuinely confused. It worries be because if he's lost in here, then there's no way I'm ever getting out. Not that I'd want to.

I'm just thankful when the images leave. I want to be alone in my own fantasy for a while.

* * *

Remy's POV as promised.


	5. Chapter 5

"Fuckfuckfuck." Logan was surprised at Hank's break in his normal cool, collected self. They had moved away from Remy as they realized that he didn't want them near him. He had never seen Hank so frustrated.

"I don't know what to do." He finally admitted and Logan knew that it pained him to say that. " His mind is in turmoil, and I don't know how long it will take for him to recover even partially. If at all. We haven't even gone near the physical trauma. We were told he was raped, which would explain why he does not like to be touched. But she also mentioned that he had lots of scars which I have yet to be able to look at. I believe if I tried to perform a physical it would only push him further away from us."

Remy lay down on the bed and faced the wall.

"Logan, I need to give Remy a physical, see how much damage has been done, see where we need to go from here. I was given the medical records from the mental hospital…but there's so much in them…." He seemed to struggle with his disision. "I need to do it."

Hank pitched his voice low so Remy could not hear him. Hank and Logan were sitting on chairs they had brought into Remy's room, watching Remy's back as he stared at the wall.

"Do ya really think he's gonna let you do that?"

"Normally I would say no…but I think if I just get down to business and do it he won't fight me too much. I want you to be in the room in case something does happen however. He seems to have periods of submissive behavior, but at other times he seems to fight back. I cannot quite figure out what is going on in our young Acadian's mind."

Logan snorted. "You and me both."

"Remy?" Hank touched Remy's arm, rubbing through the sweatshirt. Remy didn't react to the voice but glanced at Hank when he touched him. The expressionless eyes made Hank briefly consider trying to get some antidepressants into him. But he also knew depression was only a side problem.

Remy maneuvered himself into a sitting position at Hank's asking. Hank glanced down at the file he had gotten from the hospital that he had only just gotten the chance to go through.

"May I see your hand?" Remy gave him his right hand.

"Whatcha wanna see his hand for?" Logan asked, from his place just off to the side of the bed. Neither thought it would be conducive to cooperative behavior to have them both in Remy's face.

"You remember that Remy is left handed? I was reading through the file and I realized I've only seen him use his right hand since he's been with us. Look," He said, gesturing "He hides his left hand in his sweatshirt pocket." Logan nodded in understanding, but he still didn't think it was a big deal. "Remy, can I see your other hand as well?" Remy bit his lip but he tentatively put his other hand in Hank's furry palm. Logan growled low in his chest and Remy ducked his head. It looked as though Remy's hand had been crushed, the fingers only able to partially open. Hank just sadly shook his head. "I don't even know if I could fix this surgically. It has been left to heal this way." The once delicate, graceful fingers were useless now. Remy's livelihood would forever be impaired, if not ruined entirely.

Hank checked the next thing in his chart. His brow furrowed, as though he didn't understand what was written.

"Let me help you that," He said, helping Remy to remove his sweatshirt. Remy shivered in only a tee-shirt. Both Logan and Hank saw the junkie-thin body of their teammate, the sharp angle of bones, and felt the anger that someone had done this to their friend.

Hank grasped his hands again, but this time he turned them over in his hands to look at what the file had indicated. Logan felt his stomach drop. The Wolverine thought for a moment that he might be sick and had to fight it back. The veins that stood out sharply against his wrist were overshadowed by the angry looking scar tissue that ran from his wrist to his elbow on both arms. This was not a cry for help; this was a sob for death. There were several scars, each deeper than the next, the scaring varying in age. Remy trembled violently when he looked at the scars, as if remembering. Whoever Remy had been with did not want him to die because death would have been a mercy. Hank grasped Remy's chin, forcing the downcast, elusive eyes to look into his own, tender with understanding.

"Remy. Do not ever be ashamed of what you do or have done. You are a stronger man than I could ever hope to be." Logan nodded in agreement but Remy refused to look at them.

"We need to get this off." Hank said as he started to remove Remy's shirt. Remy struggled against it for a moment but Hank overpowered him. Logan began to wonder just how much of this he would be able to take before he went feral. He felt the blood lust in his mind.

Remy's skin was covered in a network of webbed scars. Some were in uniformed groups of three or four and Logan felt a tingling sensation in his mind. The deepest, most brutal scars were on Remy's hips and shoulders. Some of his ribs looked as though they had been broken and healed badly. The bones protruded from the skin, so sharp that they gave a new meaning to the expression "skin and bones". He had absolutely no fat on his body and only wasted muscle. If it has been anyone else Logan would have thought the boy had a heroin addiction, but Remy was too smart for that. Hank just took it all in his calm doctorly way. There would be time enough to process this information later.

As soon as his hands touched Remy's jeans to remove then, Remy sprang away from him, hitting the headboard hard enough that his head snapped back. Logan stepped forward to help but Hank just waved him away.

"It's okay, it's not a big deal. We already know. His reaction proves that." Remy kept both of them within his weary sight. He looked ready to fight them, even in his weakened condition they knew he could do damage. Logan wondered why he hadn't tried to charge anything, to escape, but whoever had abused him this way had probably….discouraged that kind of behavior. They both moved across the room and sat back in their seats, purposely not watching Remy as he shakily put his clothes back on, watching them.

Logan wished, not for the first time, that he could comfort Remy, find out what had caused him this pain and rip its throat out. Remy was his friend after all, and nothing hurt him more that knowing the aguish of the boy's soul.

"I need to…" Logan gestured at the door, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Of course, go."

Logan felt the unmistakable panic that he had been afraid of when closed Remy's door and heard that cold voice.

"What are you doing in my brother's room, Logan?"

He turned and faced Ororo, her eyes blazing. He struggled to come up with a lie, but she was already pushing past him, reaching for the door.


	6. Chapter 6

Hey everyone, I keep wanting to do this, but like the absentminded person that I am I always forget. I want to thank everyone who has reviewed and supported this story, sending me messages and just taking the time to read this angst-fest. I really appreciate it. I would not be continuing this story if it were not for all the support this story has received. Hopefully you are never disappointed with this story.

Oh, story? You want to read it? Fine, I'll keep the rest of my gratefulness to myself :)

* * *

"Whoa, Whoa, Whoa, what d'ya think you're doing?" Logan gripped Ororo's arm and yanked her backwards, she tripped over her own feet but he caught her.

She gripped the bucket she held with its cleaning cloths and polish even tighter, eyes narrowing at Logan. "I am going to clean my brother's room, as I do every week." She was suspicious and Logan needed to turn her attention aside, distract her, which was going to be pretty damn difficult considering that he might was well be wearing a sandwich board that proclaimed "Secret things we should not be doing right inside this door".

"Hank and I are doing an experiment. You can't go in there."

"Scott mentioned something about that. But that does not explain why you are in my brother's room doing an experiment when you could be doing it in the lab!"

"Cause it has to be done here, obviously."

"No, no," Ororo shook her head roughly, "get out. Both of you get out now."

"'Ro-" He was knocked into the wall by a blast of strong wind. Her white eyes looked at him and they were sad and angry and hurt that Logan would take away the last thing she had of her brother.

"No." She said firmly. "You will move your experiment Logan. You will leave this room alone."

"We can't."

"Do you desecrate headstones as well? Why does it have to be _this _room?"

"Because…."

A blue furry head poked out of the door. Seeing Storm he looked like someone caught in the middle of a crime. "Erm…Logan…?" A loud noise, like something glass breaking came from the room. "Freaking out." He said by way of explanation, ducking back into the room.

Ororo was confused. She did not like being kept out of the loop. Wolverine soon had an angry Storm in his face, finger digging into his chest, eyes glaring. "You have someone in there."

He hesitated, but she already knew. "Yes."

"Someone you haven't let us know about."

"Yes."

"Were you planning on telling us?"

"Yes…eventually. When he can handle it. He's…not in a good way right now 'Ro."

"So you took in a stray and plan on hiding him? Logan, this is not a cat that can be put in the closet when people come around to find rooms for the new children to stay…." It dawned on her, Logan saw the light go on. "That's why he's in Remy's room…because no one comes up here." She sighed. She didn't like keeping secrets from her team. "Why don't you let the others know? They would help him."

"Some of them would try…some of them would do everything they could to make it worse. He's not good at dealing with other people. We don't want him to be put under that much pressure to get well when we don't even know if he can."

She felt pity stir in her heart for a boy she didn't even know. He must be in a very bad way if both Hank and Logan were hiding him from the team, the team that was their family.

"I want to see him."

Logan blanched and actually looked frighten for a moment before he hid it, a look she had never seen on him before. It only had her more determined. "If I am keeping this secret I want to be in on it all the way."

"Hank!" Hank came out into the hall, looking wearily at Storm, and she had to admit to herself that it cut her to have her own teammates this unsure of her.

"She wants to see him."

"Wha..? No, absolutely not, we cannot risk his mental health and we cannot risk her reaction." He murmured the last part but she still heard.

"If you do not let me see him, then I will inform the team of what you are doing."

The two men looked at each other. When she put it that way, they virtually had not choice in the matter.

* * *

I hear the voices rising and falling outside the door and it makes my heart pound bloodily against my chest. It feels hard to breathe and I try to draw in as much air as I can. I'm facing the wall, trying to block it out, trying to find my way into my mind, the only place I could be safe…but now I'm not even safe there. It feels like it is all closing in. They are always around me. I don't have a moment to myself to process. To rest. To regroup. I'm bone weary; soul weary. I have no more resources left in me to try and survive, and I don't even have the energy to try and kill myself properly. Most people never stopped to think about that particular subject, but I've thought about it often and I've recognized the truth. You have to work yourself up to kill yourself, you have to draw the energy around yourself like it's the last person in the world who will ever love you and you have to wait. Keep your eyes peeled for the exact moment when you are alone and the quiet caresses you like a lover and you can fall under it as you die. Or in my case, almost die before being revived. _The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had._

My head hurts and I let my body sag against the wall. It's me and Gambit in my head now and we don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. Who's really Gambit, Remy Lebeau…who's going to take over here now. Will he kick me out? Lock me in some dark corner of my mind so he can have control? No, he watches out for me, that's not his angle. Will I eventually fade out? Is he the one that really belongs here? Am I just created? Or am I really the one who should be here? If there's only supposed to be one of us, and I'm sure at one point there was only one of us, which one is it? I don't think either of us really wants to leave.

"Fuck." I whisper, frustrated with the monologue in my head. My voice sounds strange and unfamiliar. It startles me and I look around the room to see if anyone else had spoken. Which of course they haven't because I'm the only one in the room. They're right outside, arguing about something. The two men's voices that I want so hard to accept are real, but I know they can't be, and a woman's voice that sounds at once familiar and far removed.

The door opens and I can't stop myself from reacting, from turning to look even though I know that the longer I pretend they're here the worse it will be when I have to go back to reality.

The woman I heard in the hall is brought in backwards with Logan's hand over her mouth. They shut the door behind them. Hank is looking at me apprehensively but hopefully. Logan turns around, holding to woman close to himself so she can't escape his grasp. She stiffens for a moment, her eyes widen and a moan echoes across the silent room. She lurches forward, and even though he's holding her and doesn't let go I can't help my reaction. I stiffen and back up, only stopping when I hit the wall. She looks like she's going to cry and Hank looks disappointed. Logan's face reads nothing. She manages to wriggle out of his hold and suddenly she's flying across the room towards me. I panic and my arms are out to stop her before I can even think about it. I've pushed her and she falls onto her butt. She looks at me in shock. I feel all their eyes on me and I feel like a bug under a microscope. I feel like I'm losing control, like it's all closing in on me. I slide along the wall, scrabbling to grab a hold of the wall, to grab a hold of myself. She tries to sidle towards me and I know Hank and Logan have both stepped in closer, closing the circle, closing my space. I sink to the ground and try to pull myself in. It's not working. Gambit is worried and I feel him coming forward to take the bad away. He wants to fight, to protect me because he feels my hold loosening. My nails dig into the wood floor. I feel the warmth from Logan and Hank meaning they are very close. I'm trying as hard as I can to hold onto myself. Then I feel the damp heat of her hand touch my cold hand. And I can't hold him back anymore. I clench my teeth and I hear gasps when I slam my head into the floor in my last effort to maintain control. I feel the skin above my eyebrow split and then I'm gone.

Logan realized that something had changed. He was afraid something like this would happen if Storm tried to go near him. He rushed forward to grab him when Remy started trying to put his head through the floor, fear making his blood run cold. Storm backed away, a hand over her mouth to stop herself from crying out. Certain facts became clearly evident to her. Something was terribly wrong with her brother.

Remy jumped up and Logan stopped, realizing instantly that something had changed, that Remy was displaying a strength they had yet to see. Those eyes that had before looked in turns so dead and so afraid were full of anger and a steely do-not-mess-with-me glare. Blood was running down the side of his face but he didn't notice. Logan had only seen him this way a few times that he had known him. When someone he loved was in danger. When he was getting ready to fight.

"Remy, you don't want to do that." He didn't respond. Didn't even look at him. He was looking at the one who had made him feel threatened. Storm had turned the balance into something frightening.

"Gambit." Logan let the warning color his tone. He would not allow Remy to hurt Ororo, Remy would never forgive himself once he realized what he had done.

Gambit turned and looked at him. Weary. Unsure. Gambit took a step closer to Logan and Logan stood his ground, waiting to see what he would do. Hank near about pissed himself with joy when he realized Remy was reacting to them, showing an interest in his surroundings despite the reasons why.

Gambit was right next to him, looking down on him since he was considerable taller than Logan. His right hand came up and long fingers splayed across Logan's shoulder. Gambit frowned a bit and Logan wondered why. Gambit peered into his eyes, those blue eyes that did nothing but look curiously back at him. Gambit ran his hands over his hair, over his shoulder and arms, feeling the muscles twitch involuntarily beneath his fingers. Everyone was watching him. Storm was still on the floor, gasping wetly, trying to process the whole situation. She couldn't understand what he was doing, why he was being this way, what had caused this.

Gambit stepped away. Took another step back, then another. He buried his head in his hands. "I'm goin' fuckin' insane." The men heard him mumble to himself. Logan snorted.

"It seems like you're finally coming out of it, actually." His head snapped up and those eyes focused on his and Logan felt a twinge of uncertainty. This man may not be on his best game, he may be completely insane and have no idea what he was doing, but he still had his predatory instincts. Logan walked to him and held him by his shoulders, forcing the younger man to look him in the eyes. " Why don't you tell us what happened?" It was the easiest way to try and help him.

For being so thin, obviously starved and sleep deprived, he moved faster than Logan could keep track of. He felt the force of something hitting him, no someone, Remy, plowing into him like a linebacker, knocking him on his ass. He froze when he felt those fine boned hands on either side of his neck. He knew if he moved, he would get his neck broken. Hank froze and Storm was silent.

"Remy," Hank tried to bring him into conversation, to remind him that he was here with his friends. "What is wrong? What did Logan say that upset you."

"Like y' don't know," he snarled, never losing his grip on Logan. And Logan didn't want to fight him and hurt the boy in the process. "Keepin' me here. Both of y'. I know y' know where I go." Remy's eyes squeeze shut, his jaw clenched as he brought himself under control. "Y' know where I go when y're fuckin' me, tryin' to make me scream and beg and accept and fight. And it pisses y' off that even when I'm supposed to be y'r possession, y'r toy, y' can't have me. I know it pisses Sinister off that even when he saved me from the ice, the people I take comfort from, the _only_ comfort I get is from the same people who despise me and don't give a damn what y' do to me. And y' just want the things you think are his. Isn't that what y're always saying while y're fucking me unconscious or trying to flay me alive? "I have the one thing the runt doesn't." Well congratu-fucking-lations. I don't think he really cares. And y' might be ahead of the game now…but I'm going to win in the end. Y' can't keep me tied to this life forever."

"Remy?" Hank was trying to process what he had just been told. He had been shocked and elated when Remy began to speak in that hoarse, smoke-ruined voice. But all that joy had left and he had a hard time wrapping his mind around what he just found out. Sinister had him? And someone else too, apparently. And…it was one thing to know, logically about the rapes, another to have him just so matter-of-factly state them as though they were everyday occurrences. And they probably had been. But the way he was talking was as though he thought they were someone else. Hank couldn't imagine what Remy was seeing to make him think that. Hank wanted nothing more than to know what was going on inside this young man's mind. Sinister…. No wonder Remy was as mentally unsure as he was, Sinister was the master of manipulation, and there was no way to know what kind of tricks he had played on the boy.

Storm felt like puking hearing that admission.

"This-" He said, a sweeping hand gesture across the room, indicating all of them, "is a dream".

"Remy, no it's not." Hank told him gently.

"What happens when I wake up…I'll either wake up to find out that this is a dream, or I'll wake up to find out that…this really isn't a dream. And what do I do then? I don't even know which one I want. Which one is the better kind of hell?" Remy said tiredly, sounding an inch within crying and sounding so much like the unsure youth that he was.

"Brother," Storm tried to plead, coming closer to him.

Remy actually growled at her. "Y' think I'm still her brother? Really? After all this shit y' played then….and especially now? She would never have me now…and after be left behind…I won't have any of them. Y' can't play them games with me." Storm's heart broke at hearing those words. She knew that they were true, he wasn't trying to hide his feelings about them because he didn't think they were really who they looked like.

"Hank, try and hack into the mainframe and put the mansion on high alert. If Sinister's involved, we want every alarm in this place to go off the second he gets inside…'cause you know the second he finds out where Remy is he's gonna come for him. But we don't want everybody else to know."

"Of course, no need to let everyone into this..." He looked at Storm's tear streaked face and Remy's angered one and Logan, trying to remain calm, "charming family reunion."

"Remy. Would you like to let go of Logan now, please? He is only trying to help you. We all are." Gambit paid him no mind, staring through him. "Gambit?" Suddenly those intense eyes were focused on him and Hank felt very uncomfortable, still unsure what was going on in that head of his. "Would you let go of him. No one is going to hurt you." Gambit stared at him for a long moment, before his hands loosened and he shoved Logan away from him, a fighting move meant to give him a moment to prepare in case Logan turned and attacked him. Logan rubbed his neck for a second before he went and hoisted Ororo to her shaky feet. No need to make this situation any worse than it was. Taking two threatening elements out of the picture would calm Remy down.

"Think you've had enough excitement for one day." They walked out of the room, Logan dragging a confused and emotionally distraught Storm behind him.

When the door closed, it was only Gambit and Hank. Hank sat on the bed and merely watched Gambit as he hugged himself, leaning against the wall. Those crimson and onyx eyes were watering and Hank felt his stomach twist when he uttered a simple, tired sentence in a choked voice; "Why are y' doin' this to us?"

* * *

Logan walked 'Ro all the way to her room, just to make sure she told no one, at least not right now. They didn't meet anyone. Once they were in her room and he turned to leave she spoke.

"What is wrong with him, Logan? What happened?" Her voice was steady; she had spent the whole time since leaving his room controlling her emotions, calming the erratic weather outside that was no doubt alerting her teammates to her emotional status.

Logan rubbed a hand over his face. "That was the first he's spoken since we found him at a mental hospital a few days ago. So now we know Sinister had him, and some other sick bastard. This whole situation….tickles the back of my mind….but I'm too worried about the kid to focus on it. Whoever else had him worked a number on him. He's been starved, mutilated. His hand's crushed; he hurts himself, like you saw. He has all these weird behaviors. He's been raped. 'Ro" His pleading eyes turned to her and she saw how much this was affecting him, how much more than she expected it to. "He's broken. Someone broke him. And…we left him there to let it happen."

Storm felt sick at hearing again that Remy had been raped. For someone who loved sex so much, who _was_ sex as much as he was, to have something that was so essentially _him _turned into a punishment…

"Logan," She placed a hand on his shoulder. "You were not there. Do not try and take the blame for this. I was there. Hank was there. We take some blame…but someone is going to have to die for this."

Logan saw the blood lust in her eyes. No one hurts her brother and gets away with it. The animal in Logan roared its agreement. Pack protects pack.

* * *

"Gambit, you are safe, whoever hurt you before will not get you here. Your family will protect you." As soon as he said it Hank realized the irony of that statement when they had all but given him to Sinister on a silver platter.

Remy just kept looking at him. And then he watched the strangest thing happen. The fighter's stance disappeared; the confused, pain-filled eyes were back. Remy was back. And he was being as tight lipped as ever.

"Remy?" Hank asked, unsure as he so often seemed to be these days. Those eyes flickered up to his before finding something on the floor to look at. Hank came off the bed and sat next to him. Remy made no attempt to get away but he did not acknowledge him either.

"Remy? Do you want to tell me where you went?"


	7. Chapter 7

I send out huge apologies for being a complete asshole and not updating anything in...forever. Thanks for all the messages people have sent (even if I didn't reply...I suck at replying. I'll try to be better, I promise) and all the prodding. Nothing was wrong, just school junk...and...arrested junk 0_0 I promise, I'm not really a criminal...only sometimes. But thank you to each and every one of you, I would list you by name but that would take forever. So instead of doing that, I wrote you a chapter :D

* * *

Hank didn't receive an answer, and he didn't even find that he was disappointed in that fact. He almost expected this return to earlier behavior. Remy rested his head against the wall, drawing swirls on the floorboards with his right hand, his not mangled hand. He ignored Hank, though Hank began to wonder if this was an active process or if Remy was merely retreating into his mental protections and just did not process the voice speaking to him.

"Remy." Hank didn't stop the spark of joy he felt when those shadowed eyes looked up at him from under those eyelashes. He was going to treasure every improvement, every minorly good thing that happened from now on. He felt like he has an epiphany: it was all so much more fragile than they saw, even as X-Men. Life could be so destroyed in such a small window of time.

"May I hold your hand?" Hank put out his large paw, close enough that Remy could get to him, but not so close as to invade upon his space.

He was beginning to think that the best way to let Remy heal was to let him control the pace.

Remy just looked at him for several moments. He made no move to speak, made to movement towards him, but Hank saw the glint that appeared in his eyes for a brief moment, calculating, thinking the offer over. That alone made up for the fact that Remy was not going to be allowing himself to be touched. At least not willingly.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" The silence that met his question would normally have made Hank quiet nervous, but he was beginning to get used to it, for better or worse. Somehow he suspected that even if Remy recovered, and Hank had no delusions that he would be able to recover all the way to the man he was before this whole fiasco began, this silence, the blank looks, would never disappear entirely. They were now apart of his former teammate's personality.

Hank thought of something and he could have smacked himself for not having thought of it sooner. Remy was a new person. He had been abused to the point of breaking. His everyday actions and reactions were most likely focused on surviving. He had most likely learned the way in which he would be able to avoid his captor's wrath.

"Remy, would you like me to tell you a story?" Remy tilted his face towards Hank, his expression closed. He was not saying no, but he would not say yes and risk getting rejected. But the almost wistful look that had crossed his features was enough of an answer for Hank.

"Well then, let me tell you a fond memory of you I have. It involves your...inability to make food that is palatable to anyone with taste buds." Hank grinned as he called forth his memory of this event, namely Remy coating everything in spices on his night to cook and "helping" others on their nights to cook until the Mansion resorted to a full week of takeout meals so people wouldn't starve. Heaven knows Scott's ulcer couldn't take much more of it.

* * *

"And what is your plan Logan? Hide him? He is not some sick animal that can be released back into the wild. And how long can you hide his outbursts? Someone will hear him eventually, if one of the telepaths doesn't pick him up first. Really Logan, so little thought went into this plan of yours that I am amazed that Hank had any part of this."

"Oh, but you can believe I thought it up? God, 'Ro, we didn't plan anything. We just needed to get him outta there, to somewhere normal."

"Yes, that makes perfect sense Logan, if he thought any of this was real. But he doesn't. Did you bring him back to help him or to make you and Hank feel better, assuage your guilt?"

"My guilt? I wasn't even there. But no, that is part of the reason, but not how you think. We know we wont be able to hide him forever. But should we really hide him at all? We're not hiding him for your sakes, we're hiding him for his. God, can you imagine the shit that would get thrown the second they found out? The accusations? Everything is calm with them right now, but mark my words, all those supposedly healed wounds, all the guilt they deal with will be gone the second, the _second_ that they find out he's still alive. Oh, who gives a flying fucking Christ on a motorbike if he's batshit crazy. He's still a murderer in their eyes. It's easier to deal with his memory than it is to deal with him. But God help me, I want him to get better, and not for our peace of mind, but because it's the least he deserves from us. How much you wanna bet that this all happened because of us, hmm? Oh no, the X-Men will know what they've done. Just not yet. Not when he can't defend himself against them."

Ororo sighed. "I know, old friend. I wish that were not the case, but I fear you are right, at least in their reactions. I cannot help but think that maybe Jean-"

"No. He don't need no flaming telepath tearing through his memories. I know Jean means well, I don't think she's do anything to hurt him intentionally, but is it in his best interest to just have all of these memories from the last few years shoved in a box in his head marked "watch at a later date"? He needs peace, 'Ro. He needs peace and us. We will get him through this as best as we can. For now."

"Alright, Logan. For now. But promise me-"

"If things take a turn towards something we can't handle we'll call Jeannie in, I promise."

* * *

"I feel like they're up to something."

Jean rolled her eyes. "Of course they are, Scott. Everyone is always up to something in this house. Don't worry about it."

"They're up to something big."

"Scott, honey. Leave Logan and Hank alone. They don't want anyone to know yet."

"Know what?" Scott turned to her. "What are they doing?" He demanded. She had that look...that special look she got when she was partaking in mischief. It was hard having a trickster as a wife sometimes.

"They're lovers."

The thud that Scott made when he hit the floor made Jean smile wickedly. That would keep him off their tail. It was entirely untrue, of course. She knew those boys were up to something, but she didn't know quite what it was. Was it really that important anyway? She had done a brief scan of their minds, just to make sure nothing was wrong, but their shields were up to maximum levels. She felt a slight static buzzing around the two of them, not them, but someone or something else. She shrugged it off. They were probably hiding a dog, why let Scott freak out about that and cause trouble where there needn't be any?

* * *

Hank could have wept with joy. He was currently holding Remy's good hand, the younger man's eyes boring holes into his own, demanding nothing but the truth in those depths. He was running through every story he could think of. He had told Remy about his relationships with the members of the team (the good ones, anyways) and Remy just sat and drank in all in, not saying anything, not needing to say anything. The two men sat knee to knee and stared at each other, in Hank's case, in wonderment.

Remy stood up in a fluid movement and Hank leaned back and wondered momentarily if he has done something to upset the man. Remy walked over to the closet and pulled it open. Hank just watched him, curious as to what he was doing. He didn't appear to be a danger to himself at the moment so Hank felt no need to act.

Remy's hand searched above his head, on the closet's shelf for something. He stilled for a moment, body obviously tense as his fingers got a hold of something. A battered shoe box was pulled down. Remy stared at it as though it was his undoing. Shakily he pulled off the lid. The shoebox hit the floor and Hank was up in less than a second when he heard a sound unlike any they has heard thus far; the soul tearing sobs of their teammate.

He was amazed when Remy allowed him to wrap his blue furry arms around him and hold him close as he fell to his knees and sobbed, fighting for breath. Hank looked around him at all the pictures of his teammates, pictures he was sure none of them had noticed being taken by the man who was never in any of them. The shoebox with its sharpie scrawled _family_ lay on it's side.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hitsuni** and **Diamysue**- Here is your update :) Enjoy!

**BJ2**- I fear that I always wait JUST LONG ENOUGH that you always end up having to reread my story. I'm sorry? Or thank you for rereading it multiple times! Anyway, I tried to update it so maybe you remember everything you just reread still ;) I imagine that Hank is pretty free with the hugs, especially when there is an angst-ridden Remy to comfort! And is your happy dance anything like the Dance of Joy that Numfar does? 'Cause that's what I'm imagining and it's pretty hilarious.

**HellzCrusader**- thank-you! Have an update for your compliment!

**Hellysion**- -_- You are on my naughty list. Don't ruin my surprises! I mean it! You may be partially getting what you want...but I didn't do it 'cause you guessed...I did it 'cause I had already written it. But for the record, I have never abandoned any of my stories and I never plan on doing so. It make take me a few years to update, but gosh darn it, I will update! And here you go, and thank you!

**CaptMacKenzie**- I do love a good angst fest (surprisingly hard to find angst I like on this site...I tend to have to search for it on other sites). I am not a psych major, I am a history education major...'cause, you know...they're similar? But I'm a headcase so I suppose that has something to do with it.

**Triolet**- I fixed my two misuses of their/there especially for you! I worked for an English teacher so you'd think I'd pay attention to that but I was more focused on getting my thoughts down. I don't imagine that this story will be moving particularly quickly, so no worries there.

**Itachi is Kickass**- glad you approve :)

**Wonga**- Here is the update, don't be too demanding...well, okay, be demanding, but be prepared to bribe me ;) But if you drool on my nice shirt I will banish you!

so there was a bit of...discussion about the slashy nature of the fic, so here's my stance: if slash is a believable, natural outcome, then there will be slash, but I won't change the natures of the characters just for the sake of romance. If it has to be forced for slash to occur, than there will be no slash. Mmmkay?

* * *

Logan woke up with a start trying to figure out what had intruded into his sleep so suddenly. He heard it again. A thumping noise, followed by a few smothered giggles. A glance out the window told him all he needed to know. He closed his eyes again, willing himself to go back to sleep. It was a Saturday morning. That meant that the adults were sleeping and any and all children were currently sneaking around the wings of the mansion (mainly HIS wing of the mansion) trying to get themselves into trouble. The window was at a perfect angle, the sun light pooled everywhere but the bed. He could have slept for hours. He was so drained for some reason, worn out.

His eye flashed open. _Shit._ Those damn kids were going to be a boatload of trouble for him at this rate. His feet quietly padded across the floorboards and he yanked his door open. Three heads snapped over to look at a very pissed off Wolverine standing in his doorway clad only in a ratty pair of sweatpants glaring at them, teeth bared. They scampered down the hall and down the stairs. He heard a flurry of whispers break out as they drifted towards another wing, and thus, another activity other than actively fraying his last worn nerve.

Logan listened for any commotion coming from Remy's room. He heard soft breathing and every few moments a snore that rattled the window panes. Last night they had decided that Hank would sleep in Remy's room and then they would alternate so neither man became too worn out. Hank had seemed pleased when Logan had returned to the room, Remy sleeping curled up on top of the covers like an extremely large cat. Hank would sleep in the recliner that was shoved in the corner of the room, almost as if it had been put there as an afterthought. It was large, but Logan still did not envy Hank trying to maneuver his bulk into a comfortable position. Hank brushed off Logan's brusk concern. They had both dealt with worse. Hank was just thankful that at least Remy, at some point, wore out and would sleep, allowing him to process the day's activities and catch a few winks himself.

Logan decided to grab breakfast while things were calm. Maybe they'd be able to shove some food into the younger man this morning. That was one of Logan's main concerns, that Remy was just too emaciated and too unused to food that he wouldn't be able to handle it at all. He didn't know how they would deal with that. They couldn't exactly hide him in the med lab.

* * *

"Hi, Wolvie!" Jubilee quipped at him as she picked all of the marshmallows out of the box of Lucky Charms.

"Hey, Jubes. 'Nough sugar there?"

"There's never enough sugar." She informed him mock-solemnly. "Scott could sure use a bowl full. Tight ass" She muttered to herself as Scott entered the kitchen, but Logan heard her and grinned. Apparently Jubilee was still arguing to be put on the team as a full member and Cyclops continued to deny her the opportunity. Logan thought she deserved a chance but she was old enough to argue this one on her own. If she wanted his backup she would ask him.

Scott stopped short, and to Logan's confusion and amusement, turned bright red, looked between him and Jubilee, then backed out of the room. This was unsettling as Scott was normally the most unflappable member of the team.

"What was that about?" Jubilee asked her foster-father, just as confused as he was.

"No clue. Can't be good though."

Jubilee sidled up to him as she made her way towards the door and Saturday morning anime cartoons. She gave him an awkward, one armed hug, holding her bowl in her other hand.

"Love you, Wolvie!"

"Love ya too kid." He shook his head as she left. She was an odd one. She fit right in with their oddball family.

He made toast and filled a plastic bag with peanut butter and jam. He thought about what sorts of things Remy would be able to eat. He grabbed a few apples and threw them in. When the toast popped up (more toasted then it probably should be, he would admit. But heaven help anyone else who said that.) he piled it on a plate and headed back upstairs. He noticed that Scott stood and watched him retreat before going into the kitchen. He rolled his eyes. Sometimes this house was just too fucking weird for explanation.

* * *

When he pushed open the door to Remy's room, trying to balance everything, he noticed that both men were completely out of it. He briefly wondered if those kids had been snooping around, had maybe seen them...but no, he shook that thought away. He didn't smell their scents near the door, or even this side of the hall. No one knew who shouldn't know, he had to content himself with that.

A loud snort and Hank woke himself up. He sighed. "Was I terribly loud?" he asked Logan softly, embarrassed.

"Yeah, you were, but it don't look like Gumbo minded." He gestured towards the still sleeping man who was oblivious to their conversations. Hank sighed.

"That is probably because he is exhausted. He woke up several times last night, nightmares I suppose, but it's hard to tell when he will not talk to us." He told the other man, frustration evident in his voice. He sighed again. "I just wonder if we are doing the right thing. If we can even help him." He showed Logan the shoebox and watched his face become contemplative as he looked through the pictures. "We never even noticed him taking these, did we Logan? Tell me, was he ever a part of this family as much as we...in hindsight, wish he were? Are we the right people for this job?"

"We can't pretend like we did everything right, Hank. But neither did he. You can't place this blame all on your shoulders, we all share it. Did he ever open himself up fully into being a member of this family? No. Did we ever give him a reason to think that he _could_ find his family here? Not substantially. Maybe a stolen moment here and there, but nothing definite. We're going to do this," Logan told him firmly. "We're going to do the best that we can. Because it's all we have to give him."

Hank seemed to draw strength from Logan's certainty. "You are right Logan. We are the right people for this job because we are the people here." They both looked at the sleeping man.

"Should we wake him up?" Hank asked.

"Well, I brought food. That toast is probably cardboard by now, but I'm sure we'll manage. Think we'll get anything into him?"

"We'll just have to see, wont we?" Hank walked over to Remy. He had barely touched the younger man before he threw himself off the bed in the other direction. He cowered on the floor, curled up, arm posed upward to fend off an oncoming blow. Hank hurried over to his side of the bed and sat back on his haunches. "Remy, are you alright?" There was no answer. After a moment;"Would you like some food?" The arm lowered and Hank found himself staring, yet again into those exotic eyes, those eyes that demanded something from him, something in his soul wanted to be released but he didn't know what. Remy didn't move. A piece of toast that looked like it had been cooked in a fire pit appeared over Hank's shoulder, covered in peanut butter. Remy stared at it, hunger evident, not only in his eyes but in the growling of his stomach. When it became clear that Remy was not going to make any movement towards the food, Logan gave a low growl and stepped around Hank and mimicked the other man's movement, coming up eye level to the weary man.

"Take it. I'm not feeding you like a kid." Painfully slowly a bony hand came up and took the offered food, he held it and continued to watch the two other men until they got up and made themselves busy getting their own food. By the time they began to eat Remy had already finished. Within a few moments he was curled up on the bed. When Logan made a move to go over to him Hank shook his head and pulled him back.

"He needs to adjust to eating again. And if I remember correctly, food may have been a tool for punishment. We need to give him space. If you rush over to him you will just overwhelm him and I doubt he will be able to keep what little he ate down."

"I know you say that Hank, but it seems like we should be doing something more."

"He'll work his way back up to eating regularly when he feels safe. He's not going to drop dead Logan. He's malnourished and very much underweight but he's not going to die on us."

"If you say so." He muttered. He wasn't used to sitting by while a teammate was in trouble.

They ate in silence, watching Remy out of the corner of their eyes. He was staring at them. Analyzing. It was disconcerting to have a gaze that was very much present coming from a man who seemed to fluctuate between what was real and what he had constructed.

* * *

I feel sick, like I've swallowed lead. I watch my hallucination of Hank and Logan (do they really think I can't see them watching me?) and I'm amazed, yet again, about how real, how solid, how _here_ they look. It's strange. Even though they look very real, sound real, I still feel like I am the only real person in this room. I'm the only real person in this whole world and the world is my mind and that is all that matters, that's what I tell myself. He can do whatever he wants to my body, but my mind is safe. My mind has found the closest thing to home I can remember. I think now that I finally have stopped falling back and forth between my fantasy and the real world my fantasy is taking on details, fleshing out into something substantial. Do I care? Not really. I can make it be whatever I want here.

I feel a twinge of pain when I try to move my fingers on my left hand and I mentally frown. If this is my fantasy, shouldn't I be whole again? I would think so, but seeing as how I don't exactly make up fantasy worlds all the time, I don't really know what to expect.

I see that shoe box poking out from the other side of the recliner. Those damn photos. I want to see them, see the familiar faces and feel that familiar lonely melancholy ache that I feel whenever I see those pictures. X-Men gatherings, Christmas, stolen moments between family. Moments I was never a part of. Did I ever let myself become a part of them? I never felt like I was welcome, not by everyone at least. It was best to remain unnoticed. Then when I came back to my room I could pretend like I had been there, had experienced the moment, even if I know the truth, even if the photos didn't show the distance clearly.

I shudder when I think about what He's doing to me right now. Is he leaving me alone? Is he even in the room with me? Is he raping me? Cutting me? Scarring me? Is Sinister putting stitches in, repairing the damage he inflicts when he tears into me, letting his animal instincts loose?

I don't care, I decide. Gambit must be taking care of it, Gambit must be out there. But I know it's a lie. I feel a shiver of cold down my neck. He's here with me. Suddenly, I become scared and curl into myself tighter. Did Sinister create this? Is this just a game? A plan to bring down my guard? To try and break me completely?

"Remy, you okay?" Logan asks me and he pets my hair back from my face. My eyes open and I look into his baby-blues and I don't see any malice in them, any trick, but that doesn't mean anything. I tense. If this is a game a want it to end now. I nod. If I am okay there is no way he will let this go on. I expect a shift of scenery, for the room that has become my jail cell to reappear, but it doesn't. The image just nods and retreats from my vision. I don't know how to take this. I close my eyes and try to sleep again. I've never gotten this much sleep in the whole time I've been with Him. I can only hope I lose myself in it.

* * *

"Good, you're awake." The red diamond in the middle of his forehead is the first thing that I see. I wish I hadn't. I wish I hadn't left my fantasy. I wish I hadn't gone to sleep.

"Tell me, Gambit. Where did you run off to? If you tell me, you will not be punished."_ Lie_ "But our friend is looking for you. He is most displeased. And he will find you. And he will punish you. Do you think that he has given you even a partial measure of what he can give to you? Oh no," Sinister chuckles as though he's amused by my antics, like I am a child. He pretends. He feels nothing, but sometimes the mood strikes him where he will pretend to feel something, compassion, empathy, caring. But he feels nothing and he cannot pretend good enough to fool me. "He will rip you apart, tear his cock into you and make you bleed for your sins. He will turn you inside out. If you do not tell me where you are so that I can protect you." His face twists into something ugly and full of anger as wakefulness tugs me back. I feel him trying to keep my mind tied to him but I'm pulling away too fast.

Something casts a shadow over me and I jerk myself upright until I see that it is merely the image of Storm. I want to cry. I am exhausted and frustrated and I just want to be left alone. She opens her mouth to say something to be but I merely turn my back and feign sleep. I hear her let out a breath of disappointment.


End file.
